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The AC unit is making itself comfortable crawling through your window, as if robots were best friends.

Robbing us of energy and currency.

Plugged in.

As if you weren’t in love with a machine.

As if this machine wasn’t once a dream.

I know I can turn it on.

The thought turns me off.

Likewise, dumbfounded.

There is no response only buzzing and spent fuel.

Time stops.

Solely on your own, not a soul to swap.

The devil is in the details and we are in his climate.

Smoking crack in the garage while a baby sleeps in a swing.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Extraordinarily out of the ordinary.

Still hot, not as hot as the shakes make it though.

She said she stopped she said, she doesn’t touch the stuff.

She shook as she thought.

Eyes vacant and withdrawn, stuck inside her head. In the middle of blackened flesh. She sleeps, yeah. She says.

What is the reason for so many witnesses and no response?

No one stepped forward.

What is the reason for all hope lost?

The heat got to my head, maybe blurry vision.

Possibly imagined.

The temperature made me do it.

Seeing plainly.

Clearly.

When a shower adds a few hours, when the sun devours.

Flowers flourish, weeds grow around them to be plucked.

Rooted and left on the cement to dry.

That’s life.

Clothing stuck to you like a pin, like they won’t just come off already.

Like wet paint.

The smell makes it worse.

Work for it.

Pulling and tugging, exhaustion of exhausted.

Only in a days time.

Tear it out like an alien form residing within.

But you can’t and you won’t.

Stop!

You wish for this weather when on the horizon a snow storm transpires.

All these machines and no wires. All these components and no wires.

Nothing is connected.

The sun makes me tired.

***

Ancient people, wearing all leather everything walking through the dusted soil. Wind blowing. I wonder how they handled. The 40’s I wonder how people handled it then. Sweat shops, I wonder how people who worked in sweat shops did it. Documented testimonials seem few and far between. I don’t think many want to read on discomfort. The heat is getting to me even as I write.

The Dawn transpires; sun rising in the East creating heat and presence.

The land is green, full of promise; soil rich, dark-black gold, open arms for a readied seed.

The people we meet, still standing on feet, who challenge us inspire; diversity, unity; symbiotic gratuity, and perception are all thrown into the fire.

Daily puzzles, enigmas, situations, and stigmas all exist as life’s earned insignia, an acknowledgement of past, present, and future.

And the sun goes down with dusk and promises of a more prosperous tomorrow.

We can all relate.

And we should all be proud.

These happenings go on with or without us, whether taken into consideration or not. What is good and what is bad; is nothing but intangible and contrived. Labels created to divide. All is the same, day after day. The only thing that changes is our minds.

Does your soul smile at whatever comes its way?

***

It could have gone-

Day:

Egg, toast, coffee.

Defecate, stretch.

Move.

Physical labor, thought process, stress, water.

Move.

Toast, butter, salad, alcohol, visual stimulation.

Read, write, brush teeth, remove contacts.

Sleep.

It is not what it is, it is what you make it. How was yours? And did you fake it?

Leaking like ceilings in a slummed-out high-rise with poorly maintained, and outdated, plumbing.

We just know this.

This is what we know.

A growing boy as I eat, I think of those who can’t, or who do and expel their meals to fit in.

To sit thin in the writ-in witted crowds of the absurdity.

Get your goals from a magazine.

Get your novel ideas on the telly.

Stunted at the moment, too much coffee.

Maybe it will be the last.

Saturated with facades.

Blinded by improper thought and fleeting delusions.

Crowned clever, and he lost his head.

Happily outside of the burning fire of unpaid bills and bounced checks, as if they could catch fire and float away forever.

Possibly they could cause a forest fire. Oh! The irony!

I am terribly concerned.

Life’s boundaries and desires are locked up in a cage in our head, the key is in our stomach.

I have a gut feeling about it.

Dead.

Start digging.

And then I expired, but not really.

Found out I just had a cold, and I am still here to complain about it.

A side note:

Can’t help it that I’m happy. Listening to Lennon reading Hemingway. I don’t care what they say. I think I’ll have a good day. Big smile on my face, ready for life to take place. Enjoy every moment of your life, that’s right. Feels right anyway.